


A Burnt Memory

by Princessfbi



Category: Burn Notice, Royal Pains, White Collar
Genre: Crossover, Hurt/Comfort, Memories, Super Spies, protective
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-24
Updated: 2013-02-24
Packaged: 2017-12-03 11:11:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/697628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Princessfbi/pseuds/Princessfbi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The interconnecting of the lives of Michael Weston, Hank Lawson, and Neal Caffrey before they went off into their respective... or not so respected... lives. Spies on the job description but brothers all the same.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lost: Hank Lawson

**Author's Note:**

> He missed it. There he admitted it. He missed being Henry. He missed having to mediate between Michael and Neal. He missed having to patch them up. Hanks's POV

_The area around was desolate. It made Henry nervous and even though Michael hadn't said so he knew it made him anxious as well. Which was why the other had a tight leash on Neal, which the kid hated. Henry understood though, Neal was nothing compared to Evan. But unlike Evan, whose boneheaded plans usually fell apart the moment they started, Neal had a way of turning mud into gold and somehow thought they were a success from the start. It's hard though when everything you see is golden, something Hank envied about Neal. He wish he were that lucky._

_But as he ran through the heat, the dusty air burning his lungs despite his morning jogs everyday as he surveyed their target. He hears the loud bang and looks over his shoulder to see Michael shouting, his gun in the air. Sliding beside the brush, the dirt on the ground disrupted by his body. Pulling out his sniper scope from the bag he saw the dead man on the ground and watched Michael talking to the other man, the man oblivious to the obvious danger he was in. Michael's body posture was the same as a rattle snake's rattle. Then the pit of his stomach dropped as they dragged out Neal, struggling, as he saw the blood covering his front._

Hank jerked awake and ran a hand through his hair. Thunder echoed outside, his windows banging against the storm outside. He was proud of everything he had done with Michael and Neal but there were some things that just still haunted him, leaving him up at nights like this in a cold sweat.

_Hank had the sniper rifle in his hands, watching as the man continued to hold Neal, his life draining away._

" _Come on, Michael." Henry murmured. His doctoral instincts were screaming at him. Neal wasn't going to last long. He could see it on the kid's face. See it on Michael's face. Then he saw the flick of Michael's hand, and the unaware bodies of the two men looking at the scene waiting for their boss's direction._

_Without blinking Henry shifted to the left and fired twice. The men were down before they knew what happened. When he looked back he saw Michael dropping his cool calm exterior, his silent anger holding his gun at the man with Neal. They were speaking then shouting and Henry could feel the sun making his neck sweat. The man raised his gun to Neal's head and Henry fired._

Hank moved around the darkness of his kitchen, his sounds being blocked by the thunder outside, and therefore not worried about waking up Evan. He drank the cold cup of orange juice, trying to get the feeling of the burning sun on the back of his neck to disappear. It was a long time ago. He didn't know what happened to the others but he tried to find out. Being burned isolated him though. Michael had turned into a mere memory of…

Easier times? Hank chuckled. Ironically, yes, because somehow being an unknown face in a third world country tracking a drug lord was easier than having to live up to all these responsibilities after he had been black listed from his hospital position. He wondered how long it would take before he was burned from this job. Or permanently with the way his luck was going. But this new life wasn't so bad. He had time to read….newspapers. And he ran everyday on the beach.

The thunder rolled outside at his bluff. He was happy yes, but he was bored. He wished he could have been like Neal and come up with some big extravagant plan to do something. Or like Michael who was still in the business for all Hank knew.

_Henry was whispering words of reassurances to Neal in the back of the Hummer before turning back to Michael, shouting at him ease up. Michael remained silent though and continued driving at reckless speeds trying to lose anyone that could be tailing them. They drove through one town after another town and another. Neal whimpered as they took a sharp turn._

" _Michael!" Henry said not even bothering to look over his shoulder this time and focusing on Neal as he kept talking to the kid. He couldn't risk letting Neal fall unconscious and he couldn't do anything with the way Michael was driving. He fought the urge to pull on his curls in frustration. "Neal, Neal look at me."_

_Wide terrified eyes obediently looked away from the blood on Henry's hands and turned to the doctor's face. It would be like Neal to actually listen to an order in a time like this. Henry felt the lump in his throat and quickly tried to clench the emotions in his throat. He opened his mouth to ask Neal some brainless question to distract him but he threw himself over Neal at the BANG from the side of the car._

Hank looked at his watched and groaned. He had to be up in four hours for a house call to Ms. Pillsbury and check her vitals after her spill.

He sighed relaxing back into the couch.

He missed it. There he admitted it. He missed being Henry. He missed having to mediate between Michael and Neal. He missed having to patch them up. He didn't run for the view. He ran because it was a habit. Sometimes he would carry a small stone in his palm, the weight like the bugs he would slip as he bent down to catch his breath.

It had just been easier to keep up with what had become his normality. It wasn't like their had been any grace period from being burned. He still felt the sting of the heat, the sudden helpless looks on his friends' faces. He wasn't like Michael. He couldn't detach himself from others. Neal and Michael had been his friends. His first real friends that didn't ask him questions about his past or weigh him down with responsibilities, and he had been ripped away back into a world where he didn't have that. Evan was his brother and would always be his brother but he just didn't understand Hank's need to have weightlessness.

" _Yeah," Henry sighed as he answered the phone._

" _You've been blacklisted. You're burned." And that was it._

" _What?" Henry frowned. He didn't hear right. He gripped the phone at the dial tone. "Hello?"_

" _What's wrong," a voice asked him. Michael had appeared beside him suddenly, Neal behind him looking on curiously. Henry jumped back, his survival instincts kicking him into gear, like he had physically been burned by Michael's presences._

It had been a very interesting night. Typically Evan didn't even seem to blink an eye when Hank had called him in a rush to put the rest of his cash into the hidden account he had set up in case something like this had happened, not even catching the way Hank's voice had been tight in anxiety. That had been an interesting couple of days. More like hours because there had really been no end until the end. Michael and Neal didn't even need to ask any questions as they rushed to help him get back to his home before he would have been locked out of any travel. And their goodbye had been even more abrupt.

Sometimes he wondered. Not a lot because if he thought too much on it, he'd obsess and then that would be all he thought about and then there'd be a weekend full of hard liquor and a hangover come Monday morning realizing the Neal he had seen in the streets of New York had just been the alcohol talking. He'd done that once before he realized that it wasn't going to change anything.

He was still stuck in this same, normal cycle, and maybe, just maybe…Neal and Michael were off in some exotic hot country getting ready to kill each other.

Without him.


	2. Caged: Michael Weston

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The kid was going to get himself killed. But that had always been Neal's problem.

The kid was going to get himself killed, was what Michael was thinking as he stared at the smirking face in the paper. But that had always been Neal's problem. He enjoyed being seen too much to hide in the shadows like Michael preferred. He had nearly ripped his hair out in frustration back in the days when Neal's brash runs to the spotlight had nearly gotten them killed. It was only until Henry had been able to talk them into a compromise that they were actually able to make any further progress.  _Be seen not remembered_ the calm doctor would always remind the younger. Neal would roll his eyes and with a wave of his hand go off to do his own thing.

" _Be caref-" Michael's request was cut off as Neal slammed the door to their base. Henry chuckled at Michael's exasperated expression as he turned back to the camera, headphones going to his ears._

" _You think it's funny now," Michael said crossing his arms. "You won't be laughing when our cover is blown and we have to drag his body through customs."_

" _What ever you say, Mike," Henry said, the corner of his lips twitching upward. "Maybe if you lightened up on him…"_

" _What?" Michael lifted his brows incredulously. "You mean like spread his wings?"_

" _No," Henry said. "But you know how he is."_

" _Arrogant, cocky, destructive, pigheaded…"_

" _And I know how you are." Henry interrupted him turning to him. Michael gave him a dangerous look but Henry only chuckled again before turning back to the screen._

_The heat inside the van was stifling at best but the tension from the previous evening's argument still echoed along the metal walls of the frozen yogurt car. It made up for the heat outside while still fitting but it made for some pesky wanderers banging on the side for their attention. Michael and Henry had been fine in the van, fully ready to sit for the week that would probably take their mark to return to his safe house. But Neal hadn't taken to the closed compacted space as easily as the other two. The twenty one year old, while a trained spy, was still too wild and in need of fresh air. Needless to say the argument led to Henry having to separate the two before they killed one another._

_Knock knock knock._

_Michael and Henry ignored the tap from the lone construction worker trying to see if some magical person would appear. The worker waited a moment before walking away down the road to the site the builders were gathering. Michael took his own pint of the frozen yogurt, letting the cold dairy fill his mouth as Henry relaxed in his chair. This was what made an easy job. Two silent partners watching a monitor in a van with melting yogurt._

_..._

_BANG!_

_There was silence in the truck as both processed the familiar sound._

" _Was that…" Henry began but Michael was already out of his seat, gun in his hand._

" _Yes."_

"Whose that?" The soft voice of Fiona didn't startle him but he still flipped the paper over from her sites, covering the picture from view. The protective pull made his brow lift as his body tensed in the way it always did. Shoulders heightened, calf muscles tight ready to pounce. He hadn't felt the familiar twist of his muscles in a long time

"No one."

Fiona made a noise at the back of her throat, not believing him but knowing better than to push. "I'm going to the store."

"We need more yogurt," He said.

"I know." She replied already out the door. He waited until he heard the car engine start and then disappear before he turned the paper back over in his lap.

He had been smart. Michael still couldn't believe the kid's luck. Neal Caffrey had not been his name on all of his paper work, though Michael doubted from the beginning that was his real name. Even with a fresh face into the more shadier side of the world Neal had high connections with people who forged all his documents and paperwork. Michael had met with a baby-faced kid with deep blue eyes that went by the name of Neal Holloway, recruited before he even finished high school. It was his luck he picked the wrong pocket. Michael's brow furrowed, as he worried his teeth on his thumb, at the mug shot in the paper's headline.

"Fugitive in New York Escapes Judge's Chamber" it read in big bold letters. He had expected to see a long article about how he was wanted for some grisly crime their agency had decided to pin on the kid but instead found a rather improbable tale about a consultant for the FBI who had been cleared of all charges after finding the man who really committed the rather laid back crime. Forgeries had been Neal's trading card after he had disappeared without a trace.

New York. Michael lifted his head staring out his balcony from his chair. Neal was close to Henry. The familiar racing of his heart returned as he thought back to old memories of running. Henry had been a good guy. He knew how to calm Michael down long enough for him to go talk Neal brash actions. He deserved much more than he was given. Sam was a good friend but no one would come close to Henry. It had taken both his connection and efforts plus Neal's to make sure they had gotten him back home safely before some of their rather disgruntled clients had heard of his termination. He went by Hank now, Michael remembered, having checked up on him.

_Michael noticed the construction workers had made themselves sparse. He walked in the direction Neal had gone._

_If you are in a stake out chances are there are other people just like the ones your watching in the area and they are watching your target as well. The last thing you want to do in a situation with heavy gunfire is go running around with a gun in your hand. Chances are the moment you step from your vantage point they will see you and have a sniper take you out before you get the chance to explain to them that your not there for them._

_He turned the corner, spotting the abandoned storage warehouses that were hidden behind the few habited buildings in the area. The sun bore down on Michael as he pulled his sunglasses down, the cool metal of his gun chilling his back as he spotted the abandoned stain on the ground. Blood. Instead of walking forward though, he turned quickly, behind the pile of torn rusted metal. He needed to be smart about this. Neal had been shot that much he was for sure._

_The kid had been forced to learn how to shoot but for the most part he would conveniently leave his gun behind._

_Debating on the blood had been it hadn't been a head wound meaning there was still a chance he… Michael moved on. He saw foot prints, possibly a day old maybe two. Six different pairs that meant give or take he'd have about five heavily armed assailants with enough leverage to push Michael to far. But it wasn't just him, Henry was somewhere and if Neal was wounded then he'd need to make this as quick and painless as possible._

_And... Sometimes you have to fire a couple of shots at old buildings to get said guys to come out in the open._

_He fired two shots in the air, stopping to stand in front of his unknown opponent._

" _Excuse me?" Michael shouted in an irritated tone. A tall man rushed out of the building, gun in his hand as he pointed it at Michael._

" _What do you want?" The man demanded. Michael felt the loathing disgust fill his stomach. Quinn Demetri, a big time gun runner and drug trafficker that was known in the area. He had no relation to who Michael had been watching at the time but he liked to know the neighbors and possible allies in the area. Demetri was not one of them._

_It's important to remember that the big fish in the pond needs to eat sooner or later. He's going to have to make deals with the little fish at some point as well._

" _I seem to have lost one of my associates around here. You wouldn't happen to know where he could be do you," Michael said with a mocking smile. His eyes narrowed on the man under his glasses as another man stepped beside Demetri._

" _I don't know what the hell your talking about."_

" _See I think you do," Michael replied. He turned the gun and fired at the unknown man in the shadows before turning his aim on Demetri quicker than the blond man could react. "And I need you to know that I don't have time to be kidding around."_

" _Who the hell are you?" Demetri demanded with a snarl, spit flying from his mouth._

" _My name's Halden. Your name is Quinn Demetri. I've got a shipment full of Iranian fire arms that I need to get to moving before tonight and I'm on a very busy schedule so if you could hurry this along, that would be great."_

" _This is my-" Demetri began but Michael cut him off. He fought to reign in some of the usual patience he had in situations like these but every moment that passed with him not seeing Neal was one close the kid could be dead._

" _Yeah, yeah, times change. You're old news Demetri. Cartwell is taking over. I'm sure I'll have orders to get rid of you in the next week or so. So I suggest you give me back my man and head out of here while you still can."_

_A cry brought Michael's attention from Demetri to the warehouse door._

_Another reason why spies general work alone is because you can't control your responses when a team member gets hurt during an op. No matter how much you keep your face straight and stay in character, the other guy is going to notice some change in your demeanor._

Spies tend to work alone. Working with a team was too complicated. Human nature is to cling onto something familiar. It's even harder when you have to go from some random uncharted patch of rain forest that was inhabitable to the middle of a market square is Bosnia that just so happens to be the trading center for human traffickers. You have to cut yourself off from anything you get attached to because you won't be able to carry it in your suitcase when you flee the country.

Yet he had worked with a team once and was doing it again. The similarities were almost painfully apparent. Dark thoughts lingered in Michael's head. He had been fine on his own. But now he was making the same mistakes.

_Michael's shoulders tensed for the briefest moment as they flung Neal to the ground, but Demetri caught it. His snarl turned into a sickening grin as he moved over to the heap that was Neal. A long arm wrapped around Neal's neck and hefted the injured man up causing him to choke. Demetri stretched Neal up, the younger man standing on his toes as he struggled with the grip around his throat. A large blood covered hole was gaping at Michael tauntingly; the bullet wound still bleeding profusely. Neal couldn't help but cry out again as the pain from stretching even made Michael almost wince._

" _You want to talk now, eh?" Demetri shouted gun pressed to his temple. Michael remained cool behind his sunglasses, hands out in a passive gesture._

" _You're not going to get a whole lot accomplished if he bleeds to death. He's one of my assets, he works for me, he dies I expect some compensation." Michael said mildly irritated._

He had taken Henry for granted. It wasn't long after that Neal had left and Michael was on his own. He had gotten accustomed to not having to argue his point across. Then he had met someone else and he had gotten close to her. A mission had gone south and he could only picture blood on his hands, flashbacks, he was losing his focus. So he had left. He left her. The sting of it had equaled that to when he had first been alone.

" _We can't move him." Henry had said at some point but Michael was already hefting Neal over his shoulder, his chest tightening as he heard the pained cry. It was pain he had caused. Henry ducked just in time as the gun shot echoed throughout the air._

" _We don't have a choice."_

He looked at the black and white picture of the annoying arrogant cocky smirk. He was going to get himself killed. And there was nothing he would be able to do about it. He was trapped in this cage.

Spies stuck in scenarios to long have the habit of starting to adapt to their surroundings. Some call it Stockholm or going native sometimes even rogue.

He was stuck in this cage he had fought so hard to get out. Sure it wasn't bad as before but he was still trapped.

" _You didn't mean it, right?" Neal asked looking at anywhere than Michael. Michael raised a brow but didn't turn to him, understanding Neal's insecurities._

" _ **He's one of my assets, he works for me, he dies I expect some compensation."**_ _Neal didn't want to be bought. He wasn't someone's puppy to take to a party when they wanted to show off to their friends. He wasn't anyone's. Michael understood. He was the same. He wasn't his father's and Neal was his own man._

" _No, Neal, I didn't mean it."_


	3. Leashed: Neal Caffery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael wasn't here and Neal need to look after Henry or Hank or who ever he went by.

The New York air was chilled and wet but the sky had refused to let the rainfall on the tall skyscrapers. The colors once so beautiful were gray and ugly. Neal needed color. He wasn't the only one feeling the miserable weather either apparently because Peter had called earlier in the morning and given Neal the day off.

Naturally that meant Mozzie having breakfast, lunch, and dinner drinking about every bottle of wine that Neal owned.

"This morning Clayton Gardner of the Gardner foundation died while in surgery. The doctor, Henry Larson." Neal's head shot up from his sketching "Is being investigated for negligence by the demand of the Gardner family. No further comments have been made Doctor Larson."

"Typical hospital bureaucracy," Mozzie said pouring more wine into his glass. But Neal wasn't paying attention as he stood, turning the volume of the television up.

No no no. They had said his name. Not Hank. Henry. The stupid report had said his name on television.

"In other news New York firemen," The news reporter went on not even realizing she had just dropped the biggest bomb on Neal Caffrey in a long time sending the reputable suave con man into an absolute panic. Neal slammed the television off, spinning so sharply on his heel that Mozzie jumped nearly toppling over his glass.

"Mozzie," Neal said his voice shaking as he searched for a piece of paper and a pen. His hands knocked over everything they touched making his search harder than it needed to be but when he finally found what he was looking for he all but threw them at Mozzie after writing a name down.

"Who's Evan Larson?" Mozzie followed Neal as the younger man ran to his hidden place behind the painting.

"You need to find him and get him and his brother to leave the city as soon as possible." Was all Neal was willing to express, his mind not putting thoughts into words as easily as it should. He was panicking. Neal tossed Mozzie the entire folder before leaving the painting open. He was really panicking as his carefully sewn edges were fringing at a massive rate that got Mozzie's attention enough to put his drink down.

"So let me get this straight, Neal," Mozzie said turning serious and peering over Neal from over his glasses. "You want to me just walk up to some guy and 'suggest' he takes a family vacation."

"Using Dennis O'Mailley."

"Neal." Mozzie balked but Neal didn't have time. Hank didn't have time. They had said his name on air, damnit! "Neal you never use Dennis."

"Exactly."

"So you just want me to throw away the best alias  _unknown_  to man on some guy."

"Yes, Mozzie," Neal yelled. Mozzie looked at him for a moment, his eyes trying to decipher what had physically changed the Neal he knew into this panicked man in front of him. Neal slumped his shoulders looking at Mozzie. "Please Moz. You have to trust me."

Mozzie stared at him for a moment before nodding.

"I'll see what I can do."

And that was it. Neal paced frantically trying to think of what to do next.

He could find Michael. Michael would be calm taking a yogurt break to figure out what to do. He looked after Neal and Henry. If he went through the right channels he could… but that would mean cutting his anklet. He couldn't let Peter in on this one. If he wanted to stay he couldn't have someone he was so closely connected to, to be shifting through bundles of red tape only to find a confidential file even the head of the FBI couldn't get into. He would never see Mozzie again. Peter. June. Anybody.

That'd mean Neal would have to do it himself. Neal had worked like a mad man, his fingers slamming onto the keys of his laptop. He was going to have to burn his laptop, he thought making Neal sigh. It had been a while but he got around the firewalls and channels with the same stealth he used in his best cons as his fingers dragged Henry through the mist of Siberia and then Moscow and then happily in Macedonia. Anywhere that would give Henry time to get out of the city. When he was finished and had transferred the necessary files, Neal dropped the laptop off his balcony.

Neal stopped catching himself in his nervous give away. A habit only Kate had seen and possibly Peter. His hand rested over his abdomen and his skin felt hot through his shirt. He raked his hands through his hair, staring down at his stomach. His mouth was dry. He hadn't thought about that in a long time. If he was being honest, which he wasn't, he didn't remember. He couldn't tell Henry or Michael. They were tough but he could see. If they knew it would kill them. He suspected Michael knew but not a lot. A few nightmares or flashes. But Neal remembered it all.

Neal walked over to the mirror, lifting his shirt high enough to see his ghost against the normally smooth skin. He had passed it off as a botch job of appendicitis and anyone who would have questioned it knew Neal well enough to know to let it go. Still his hand trembled just as he let his fingers grace over the risen pale pink scar. The city sounds slowly drowned out into loud shouts and screams of pain that hurt Neal's ears, making his mouth dry and throat sting.

_The loud bang sounded from nowhere and he was thrown backwards. The force of the ground threw his entire self into pain as if he had been kicked. He looked down, despite his better judgment, and cried out at the large gapping hole on his side. Voices were coming from above him, a shadow hover over his head. Intense fear captured him as he tried to cling out past his gun. A foot swung out and kicked his hand away before there was a sharp pull by his legs. They dragged him out of the sun and he tried to pull from their grasps, his nails scrapping the dirt. He tried to call out for Mike or Henry but his voice only made pathetic cries that didn't sound human to his ears. Suddenly the dirt turned metal and he screamed out as they dragged his body down the stairs of the warehouse by his legs, his bullet wound screaming at him. There was just screaming. Everyone was screaming._

Michael had had the most experience and the discipline out of the three of them, which made him the obvious leader of the group. That didn't mean that Neal had to make it any easier for him. He had been just out of high school and on top of the world and he had gotten through training without becoming a robot. He was determined to stay that way.

" _Remember Neal," Henry smiled form his perch, headphones propped off one of his ears. "Seen but not remembered."_

_Neal rolled his eyes and put his gun to a hip holster and fake badge on his belt._

" _I'm sure it's just a bunch of bums."_

" _Be careful." Michael said but Neal slammed the door closed. Henry chuckled at Michael's exasperated expression._

But sometimes robots have better judgment than arrogant twenty year olds. He had panicked and he was panicking now. Even now he ducked his head in shame, his face flushing in embarrassment. It was something he never let happen again but he had still been green. He could have handled the situation better. He could have fought harder. He could have not gotten shot. He could have…

_Stop it._

Michael had knocked that right out of him as soon as it manifested.

_Mike turned his head slightly to see Henry already leaving from his sniper perch and hurry down the hill with his medical bag. Neal fell forwards and Michael caught him, cursing at the amount of blood pooling from the kid's stomach._

" _I…I'm going to…b…bleed to…death," Neal groaned having seen Michael's expression as if it sealed his fate. Michael was never wrong._

_He shook again, the violent chills attacking his whole body despite the desert air. Michael grabbed his face, his glasses gone from his face and his expression suddenly very focused._

" _Listen to me, Neal. Neal! Listen." Michael shouted. Neal looked up at him, shaking beneath his friend's gaze and clinging to the pressure. He felt that. Feeling was good right? "I am not going to let you die."_

_Neal didn't get a chance to respond as Michael looked around before throwing Neal over his shoulder, the blood warming through his shirt and to his skin making him sick to his stomach._

" _We have to get him somewhere inside," Henry shouted after him as they made their way to the car._

Neal gritted his teeth. Henry was a good guy. He was the best of them. He didn't deserve…Michael and he had worked so hard to get Henry back home that…It wasn't fair. None of it had been fair. Even now Neal couldn't wrap his head around about how fast everything he had known and accepted had been ripped away. Now he was stuck not able to do anything when Henry needed him. He couldn't contact Michael and he couldn't see Henry or Hank or whatever he went by now. He didn't even know Neal was in the city. It irritated Neal at the best of times to know something the others didn't. He could kill a man forty six different ways. He never would but the knowledge was there. And the only people who knew were faceless no ones who hadn't bothered looking for him and Michael and Henry.

His loft suddenly felt claustrophobic. He had to get out. His hand itched to unlock his anklet and throw it off the balcony with his laptop. He was "leashed" and out of commission. He never wanted that.

_Neal screamed as he twisted in Michael's grasps, his grip remaining firm as Henry continued to clean the wound._

" _Oh God," he hissed between his clenched teeth as Henry's usually gentle fingers felt like their were alit with fire. He heard Henry apologize and then order Michael to keep him still. He wasn't being helpful. No he needed to be helpful because Henry was a good guy. He had to…_

_Neal let out a long scream again, fighting against Mike's hands. He turned and buried his face in the older man's arms to silence his pains._

He had a life in New York with Mozzie and June. Peter. He would come back but the moment he was free, the moment the teether around his ankle was released he was going to find Michael. Find his other family.

He had one more thing to do. Michael wasn't here. And Neal needed to look after Henry. Neal pulled his cellphone out, stabbing the number in with such lack of grace that his normal charming handsome face looked rash and desperate. It rang once before the voice on the other end picked up.

"Boris," Neal said with a smile but his voice was tight with fear that wasn't hidden well. "I need to ask you for a favor."

 

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing!


End file.
